Picture Perfect
by Ania Orome
Summary: What if Harry decided his "freakishness" was nothing to be ashamed of? What if he decided that his power helped him and kept him safe? And what if he decided to do something about it?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It is my most desperate wish that I could own even the smallest part of the Harry Potter world. Alas, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter One

When Harry Potter was five, he decided that normality was entirely overrated.

After years and years of being persecuted by the Dursleys for his apparent "freakishness", he decided that they were right. But then, he thought, _so what_? So he was weird. So weird things kept happening when his emotions went particularly haywire. So _what_?

In a way, Harry noticed, the "freakishness" kept him safe and relatively sane, so instead of shunning it, he welcomed it with wide open arms. Sure, it still hurt that his only family only acknowledged his existence only when his presence was needed to do chores or cook, which was the latest form of "payment" that the Dursleys came up with to make him reward them for taking him in when he was only just a baby. He knew it was not normal, but he also was highly aware that things could've been worse. He'd seen the children living on the street and was glad that he, at least, had a roof above his head and a rugged blanket to keep him warm. Dudley's hand-me-downs weren't really that bad and the chores they made him do would make him a great gardener and cook later on in life.

So really, what was there to complain about? Lack of affection? Some people had relatives that actually threw them on the streets (Harry had actually witnessed that only a few days ago). Hard work? Well … all he had to do was look at Dudley and he would stop complaining (Harry actually wondered how long it would take his cousin to end up being wider than tall – his latest bet was nine years). The blatant favoritism his cousin received compared to his meager possessions? Again, no comment.

All in all, Harry decided, at the age of exactly five years, his life was nothing to complain about. Nor was his "freakishness".

* * *

It took him a while, – and when he would look back on his childhood years, Harry would always wonder why it took him so long, because it was _so damn obvious_ – maybe even a few weeks of consciously observing his "freakishness", but he noticed a trend in the weird happenings. They always seemed to happen when he felt in a particular way, be it happy or sad or maybe just wanting something, but, and this without fail, they always happened when he felt something powerful or when he focused on something.

Thinking about it for about an hour while trimming the small bushes Aunt Petunia had take a fancy to, Harry had concluded that, maybe, if he tried hard enough, he may be able to control his powers – as he called them, because calling them "freakishness" was rude – and harness them.

And as such, one Harry James Potter started his magical education earlier than most children in the Wizarding world did.

* * *

It took him quite a few months, almost a year, to even be able to control a pebble he lifted from the ground. It took dedication, determination and more focus than a normal five-going-on-six year could manage, but, seeing as Harry had chosen to be decidedly _abnormal_, effective immediately, he succeeded in the end.

He spent every free moment he had trying to find a way to control his powers, either by focusing hard on what he wanted to happen or by letting his anger, humiliation and even hunger lead him. He stood every night in his cupboard underneath the stairs and tried everything he could think of. He tried to conjure a ball of light, to chase off the darkness, he tried to summon heat, because, during the cold season, his patched up blanket wasn't enough to keep him warm, he tried to change the color of his meager possessions, and he even tried to repair Dudley's broken toys, which he had successfully rescued from being thrown away. All of his attempts led nowhere.

After trying everything he could think of (and some things he saw on TV, when Aunt Petunia thought he wasn't looking), he succeeded in using his powers intentionally for the first time.

It had happened one day after returning from primary school, when Aunt Petunia told him to repaint the fence, because the old color was out of fashion. He had nodded calmly, went inside the house to change into his "work" clothes, took the paint and brush out of the shed in the backyard and went on to finish his chores, knowing he wouldn't be fed otherwise.

It took him about two hours to finish, but he didn't mind that much. It was a mindless job, so he let his thoughts roam free, back to what he had learned at school that day.

He had, from his observations of the Dursleys so far, that it was safer to play dumb and get low grades. He knew Uncle Vernon was very fond of showing Harry just how superior his son Dudley was when compared to him. Provoking him by getting better grades was something Harry didn't want to do. After all, it was simple survival instinct. But getting low grades didn't mean Harry had to actually earn them. If there was one thing Uncle Vernon had taught Harry, besides knowing when to shut up and act all meekly, was that knowledge was important, either in business or day-to-day life. He could still remember the day his Uncle boasted over the fact that he got a promotion because he had known something his rival didn't (thought Harry wondered what "something" was, since his Uncle never saw fit to mention).

As such, he always took care to review is lessons mentally, going as far as doing his homework in his mind and coming up with ways that he could convincingly slack off or simply fail. It took him a while to get the hang of it, considering the teachers were on to him after the disastrous first semester, but he had, after painstakingly long hours of sneaking a look at his grades and recalling what he did wrong, figured out the system their performance was graded. He knew Miss Jeoffrey had been suspicious for a while, because he hadn't been spectacularly sneaky when he looked at his report card, but he knew she eventually chalked it up to him being lazy or stupid.

Or so he thought.

What actually happened was that Miss Jeoffrey noticed the erratic ups and downs his grades took in the first semester. If he got a high grade, the next one would be terribly low. After she had caught him looking at his report card a few times with unusually focused eyes, his grades evened out, just below those of his cousin.

At first she thought it a fluke. He had high grades before, it was true, but he also managed to earn some that were far below the level he had arrived. So she thought that he had finally settled down in a constant learning regime. But something didn't add up. She had watched him when she gave the children written tests. He always studied a problem carefully before answering. He didn't get nervous, or fidget, as children who didn't know usually did. He stood calmly in his seat and wrote his answers. He also never used his eraser to correct something. Never.

What also puzzled her was the fact that he always accepted his grades without fuss. The few times she saw him get nervous was when he got a higher grade than his cousin. Without fail, his next grade would be a bit lower than his usual standard.

Confused, and a bit suspicious (after all, when she had first talked to Mrs. Dursley, she had noticed the woman wasn't too fond of her nephew), she talked about him with her friend, Ryan McKelleh, who was a college teacher. He listened to her suspicions and told her to give Harry's class a surprise quiz, which she would grade in a different fashion than the one she usually used. Also, he told her not to tell the children what grade they got. He had a suspicion that the young Potter would panic if he got a higher grade than usually.

He also told her to try and give them all different problems, so that she could give Harry and a few other more gifted students harder problems than she gave the rest.

That evening they parted cordially, both curious to see what would come of their little plot.

But Harry was blissfully unaware of the plotting teachers and continued his painting in peace. When he finished, he stored the left-over paint in the shed and went back in the house to eat lunch.

After that, Aunt Petunia told him to go and trim the small bushes near the fence. She also told him to be mindful of the fresh paint, because he wouldn't get dinner if he spoiled her cream fence. Harry just grumbled under his breath.

It was by pure accident (meaning Dudley) that Harry lost his balance while tending to the small square-ish bushes. As he started leaning towards the freshly painted fence, he started panicking, thinking he wouldn't get dinner again _if only _there was a way to stop before hitting the fence when he felt a rush of _something_ going through him before he stopped inches away from the fence, frozen mid-fall.

He stood like that for a few seconds, blinking stupidly at the _not_-ruined fence, at the _not _-smudged fresh paint, before recovering from his shock and leaning back.

As he finished trimming the bushes, he couldn't stop but feel a tad smug about the fact that he finally managed using his powers.

* * *

After that, it only took his another week to figure out how to make the _rush_ happen again. What followed, as they say, was history.

His nightly routine changed, Harry using his time to think of things to do. He started slow, with balls of light and warmth, with color changes and small repairs done to small toys.

He then expanded. He tried to make his blanket nicer, to change its texture and color, to make it fluffier and warmer. When Aunt Petunia washed his blanket, she concluded it wasn't his anymore and replaced it with another one, which was in a even worse condition than the first. That made Harry think. What if he could make his Aunt believe it was just as bad as she thought? He could've just changed the blanket back to its original state every morning, but it was tedious, since it took him a full minute to make it better. Why not make it unnoticeable to others but him?

He also started changing things, like stones to water, or wood to plastic. When he noticed that his plastic wasn't really plastic, but just a different type of wood, he went to the library and looked up a book about substances.

Slowly, he progressed, mostly through trial and error, until he could change his whole cupboard in a matter of seconds, with just a small frown to betray his concentration.

He got more and more ideas by catching glimpses of things on the TV, or listening to people talk about things. He got the craziest ideas from listening to his Aunt Petunia gossip with the next-door neighbor about the not-so-normal lady who lived at Number 12.

He also did his best on the test Miss Jeoffrey gave, thinking that if he got a high grade, he could pass it off as having received an easier test than Dudley.

What he didn't know was that he received the hardest test in the whole classroom and that he got the maximum grade. He also didn't know the consequences this would have on his life from that point onward.

* * *

A/N: So I've finally posted something. Hopefully, hopefully, I get to finish it too.

*finger crossed*

Please Review!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Erm...well...nothing's really changed since last time...so...erm....I still don't own Harry Potter. Wish I could, though, so that I could cuddle him and hug him and...erm...yeah

Chapter Two

It goes without saying that, soon enough, Harry James Potter, born in Godric's Hollow, Wales, currently residing at Privet Drive, Number 4, became a mind-boggling enigma for one Sophia Jeoffrey and Ryan McKelleh.

After being in high spirits for proving that the child was a genius, at least in mathematics, Sophia and Ryan soon became stumped by yet another mystery: why would a child, whose intellectual capacity was obviously higher than average, want to hide it? And not just hide it, but be apparently _afraid_ of getting higher grades than his lower-than-average cousin? It had become apparent to both of them that Harry didn't like getting better results than his cousin. Sophie also mentioned the fact that Harry actually _paled_ when he compared his and Dudley's results and found his cousin's to be lacking. She tried to think deeper about Harry's reactions the day after such an event occurred, but wasn't sure if the boy was any different from the usual. Ryan seemed to think he was.

Sophia had mentioned Mrs. Dursley's apparent disregard towards her own nephew, but both her and Ryan didn't think it would actually mean that the boy would feel the need to act as if he's less smarter than his cousin to please her and her husband. As it was, with no proof pointing in absolutely no direction and an apparently gifted child _not_ using his gifts, they were stuck. What was Harry Potter doing?

The only thing that Sophie could to was continue to administer the surprise tests for each course, but Harry failed to score in those as high as he did in mathematics. They even went as far as to have Ryan unexpectedly drop by during one such test. He stood in the back of the classroom so he could spy on what Harry wrote, when he wrote it and how he wrote it. His observation annoyed both teachers furthermore.

"It's like he takes the time to think what answer would be necessary to get the score he wants. It feels like he's calculating how much actual information he needs to put in his answer and how much to err to get the needed grade."

Ryan even requested to see his past tests, to compare the mistakes and see if he was consistent or not.

"He never makes the same mistake twice in a row, or even in the same context. He keeps changing them, doesn't follow a routine. Children his age usually make the same mistake over and over again until they are corrected. He doesn't do that. Instead, he rotates the mistakes. It's ingenious, for a six year old."

Because Harry was indeed six now. A new school year had started, after a summer in which he spent his time doing what chores he could while watching Dudley systematically destroy all his birthday presents. His own birthday had passed unnoticed, thankfully. He had actually found out when his birthday was two years ago, when he had turned four. Uncle Vernon had decided to try and force the freakishness out of him by starting to pile chores on him. That was also the day Aunt Petunia had started teaching him how to cook.

At first, Harry had thought that they were finally letting him join the family. After all, Aunt Petunia teaching him how to cook could only mean she wanted to spend more time with him, right? And Uncle Vernon showing him how to mow the law was special too, because he hadn't shown Dudley how to do it yet. He soon had those delusions sorted out.

Aunt Petunia just wanted to be free of the burden of cooking and Uncle Vernon was tired of mowing the lawn. Why not make the ungrateful "freak" do it instead, as payment for giving him a roof over his head and food in his stomach?

So that was how Harry's fourth birthday passed. His fifth was marginally better. He had been locked in his cupboard, where he stood on his cot, counting down the minutes until midnight, when he softly whispered to himself a "Happy Birthday to me!" That was also the first time Harry actually wished for someone to come and take him away from the Dursleys.

His sixth birthday had been spent much in the same way. He had been locked in his cupboard, where he had used his new-found power to count down the minutes to midnight, when he had changed his toy soldier in a candle, lit it up with his usual ball of light, made a wish and whispered softly a "Happy Birthday to me!" before blowing. After that he had changed the candle back into a soldier, made his blanket all fluffy and warm before falling asleep. The morning made itself known in his Aunt's shrilly tone. No "Happy Birthday, Harry!", no presents, not even an acknowledgement that he had aged with one year. Nothing.

Harry told himself the pain in his chest didn't exist.

But now the school year started again and he had to focus on getting worse grades than Dudley again. And avoid Miss Jeoffrey's inquisitive glances. Rats!

* * *

Sophie had to admit, the boy was persistent. He had taken inattentiveness to a new level, made daydreaming into an actual art and become particularly talented when it came to doodles. If it weren't for the fact that she _knew_ he was particularly smart, she would have been convinced by his act.

"If" being the operative word.

Both she and Ryan now enjoyed a nice cuppa in the evenings talking over Harry Potter's newest plot to not be noticed. She had remarked that the boy seemed fond of drawing and hoped that he would continue in that venue, but found that that particular wish was in contradiction with her _other_ wish of him becoming mathematician. Or lawyer. Or doctor. Or…many other things. The boy had so much potential, it was scary.

Scarier still, the only other person to notice this was Ryan.

Maybe the boy would become a very famous actor one day. A very _talented_ famous actor.

Whatever his skills and whatever his intellectual and acting abilities, the small, insufferable, frustrating and unanswerable _why_ was still niggling at her. The more she studied Harry Potter, the more she liked the boy. And the more she wanted to help him. It didn't take a genius to notice the longing glances he stole when parents came to pick up their children, or the curious and, dare she say it, envious look he had when he saw them hugging. It also didn't take a genius to figure out the boy was starved for attention, but was too scared to ask or even obtain it.

_Scared of what?_ she asked herself.

Maybe she was seeing too much in it. Maybe it was something else, maybe it wasn't…it was even _too_ horrible to even think about it. Such a sweet, polite boy…Maybe she should ask, just to be on the safe side. Yes, maybe…

* * *

Harry had seen the looks Miss Jeoffrey sometimes threw in his direction when she thought he wasn't paying attention. But he was, and all sorts of alarm bells went off in his head. What if she figured it out? What if she _knew_ he was faking being stupid? What if she forced him to stop, or, even worse, told the Dursleys? What would they do to him when the found out he was smarter than Dudley? That he had been _lying_? That he had been _freaky_?

They would lock him in the cupboard, most probably, with no food for God knows how long. Then they would take away the few old school books he had and they would stop him from going to school, and he would just end up being one of those people he saw on the streets that couldn't do anything and couldn't get a job…

But then again, Harry had his powers. He could use those and not end up on the streets. And even so, who knew why Miss Jeoffrey looked at him like that? It could be any other reason other than that. He would just have to take extra precautions and be more careful about what he said and wrote.

* * *

When Harry would look back, years later, and remember the stunts he pulled, trying to get his teacher to think he was a nincompoop, he would laugh himself silly and wonder how on earth did they ever worked. Then again, he had the unique perspective of seeing things from his point of view, so maybe others wouldn't see it his way…

It had taken Harry a week to study his cousin to see what he was doing and, most importantly, _how_ he was doing it. After that, it had taken him more than one week to assimilate and try to imitate that kind of behavior (with a few adjustments, of course) so as to seem less suspicious. He had painstakingly compared every little gesture Dudley made with the other in their class who weren't all that bright and then try to change his own mannerism to match that. If he had known the amusement his mostly failed tries caused his two observers, he would've dropped it like a bad joke.

Sophie delighted in telling Ryan just how humorous Harry looked trying to be some sort of Dudley Mini-Me, playing special attention to how he would try to scrunch up his face to try and imitate his cousin's confused look. She confided to Ryan that she was allowing this ruse to continue just because she found him so adorably cute when he tried to act the part of an average student.

"Just don't ever tell him that, Sophie, dear. I'm afraid the poor boy's ego would never be able to survive such a blow!"

But soon the time came that Harry became proficient enough in his masquerade that Sophie had to stop him or risk not being able to tell when he was faking or not. As cute and adorable the boy was, it was dangerous to let him continue down the path he was walking. Not to mention that if this went on long enough, she would start doubting herself and her judging skills.

_A child should never have to learn how to act that well._

This was the reason why she had called him over for a chat during one of the breaks. Seeing the momentary panic that took over his expression for a moment cemented her need to know what was going on.

"You wanted to talk to me, Miss Jeoffrey?" He was ever so polite. Always well mannered, always knowing when to shut up, when to speak, when to let others speak for him…

"Yes, Harry, that's right. Why don't you take a seat?" An easy smile spread across her face. He was just so likable, so easy to smile at. "I wanted to ask you if you have questions about the classes."

Harry froze. Why would Miss Jeoffrey ask that? Did she _know_?

"A-about classes, Miss?" he asked, trying to look confused.

"Yes. I noticed lately that you looked confused about some things in class. I only wanted to know if you have questions."

Harry looked shifty. "I…I don't understand everything, Miss Jeoffrey. Some of the classes are hard, but I try…"

Sophie smiled. "I know, Harry, and I'm proud of you for trying. It's just – " she allowed her smile to fade, a slightly confused look taking over, " – I remember the grades you got in your first semester and I'm a bit curious why there was such a difference between them and the grades you had in your second semester. Not to mention the grades you got in those surprise tests I gave at the beginning of the year."

_Oh no! what if she talked to Aunt Petunia about those? Or worse, Uncle Vernon!_

"I…well, it took me a while to get used to being at school and…"

DRIIIING!

_Saved by the bell! Who would've thought…_ Sophie mused with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She watched Harry hurry back to his seat, eyes wide open and wary. She wondered what the child would do next…

* * *

If she would've known the reaction and the thoughts that Harry had after their encounter, Sophie would've probably hit herself on the head with something big.

By now Harry had taken to testing what his powers could do, and, as such, now wondered if his powers could do anything to help his situation with Miss Jeoffrey. Maybe if he could change her mind, make her think he was normal, perfectly ordinary, she would stop giving him those looks, the one that made him feel like a bug under a microscope.

So, like in all his that were related to his powers, he started small. He took to focusing on small animals, dogs and cats and birds that flew around. At first, he had no idea what to do, until he decided to apply what he usually used before: understanding. Focusing his power, he felt the rush again, but this time it didn't rush to change something, or light up or lift things up. No, this time harry focused on understanding the cat in front of him, how it's mind worked, why it was doing what it was doing and what he could do to make her/he/it do what Harry wanted.

Soon, it became a game or trying to understand things around him. He discovered that animal emotions were very different from his own, but similar at the same time. They were simpler, instinctual. They only felt and acted, without giving much thought as to why, except for when their other senses would intervene and instinct would rear its ugly head. Harry also learned that it was easier to read an animal's feeling and control them if he made eye contact. He once heard that eyes were the windows to the soul. Maybe that worked on the mind as well.

It took more time to understand and control humans. People were fundamentally different from animals. They were more complex and there were a lot more things intervening between Harry and his task. As such, he took to practicing on the bullies at his school. He would make eye contact, enter their minds and find out why they did what they did, before trying to persuade them otherwise. Thankfully, that didn't take words, but more like a bit of prodding with his power in the right direction. The changes, he discovered, lasted for a while, but not forever.

As adult experiments, he first used Rob, the jobless bum who spent his time in the park. His thoughts had been simple, more concerned with food and shelter, so it wasn't hard for Harry to "persuade" him to walk around, taking into account the man was bored stiff. He even made Rob push kinds on their swings!

Next came the next big experiment. He tried to "understand" Mrs. Polkiss, Aunt Petunia's friend and fellow gossiper. He stopped that experiment shortly after it started. The woman had a vile mind.

His last experiment before trying his power of "persuasion" on Miss Jeoffrey were the Dursleys. He wanted to know what they knew about his school records, and as such he didn't dive too deep. Unfortunately, this would postpone his discovery of the truth behind what happened on Halloween five years ago by quite a few years. But what he discovered made his tweak a little with the help of his "persuasive" powers. They had planned on starving him. _Again_. So he convinced them otherwise.

That night, he felt a bit bad for essentially lying and forcing his relative to feed him, but he buried that guilt in the growing resentment he felt towards them. He had seen other families, with Aunts and Uncles and cousins. He had seen the _what-could-have-beens_ and he wanted one too.

_Even if it's a fake one?_ his mind asked him as he drifted off to sleep.

He felt a momentary shame, before dispelling that one too.

A/N: Ok, so, I'm AWESTRUCK by the response I got so far. It made me feel so giddy, I was lucky I was home alone. Sirius-Lee. I felt like I was on crack. It really made my day. So I couldn't help myself. I wrote Chapter Two. I'm not expecting the same response, I really am not. I feel special already :D

Thank you for the vote of confidence and I hope I don't end up disappointing you guys.

Erm...also...I'd appreciate it if anyone would point out grammatical errors, cuz that was never my forte. Thanks a lot.

Please Review!


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